Don't Scream
by Haleine Delail
Summary: TWO DIFFERENT ENDINGS! Mid-Season 4. Cordy makes a promise to submit to Angelus in exchange for information. After the Svea Priestesses vanquish The Beast, does she keep her word? And what will be the price?
1. Chapter 1

_**This story takes place in mid Season 4, during the episode "Soulless". Be warned: it's disturbing.**_

_**Also, it might not please the Continuity Police. First, it assumes that the Svea Priestesses' descendants were, in fact, able to vanquish the Beast. Second, it does not take into account Cordelia's posession by the Jasmine entity, but merely passes off her dark, erratic behavior as a depressive funk. **_

_**But that's why it's called Fan Fiction, my friends; I'm a fan, so I'm makin' stuff up! Enjoy.**_

* * *

ONE

"Hello, salty goodness," were my first words upon seeing him.

He was tall, dark and cold. He was aloof, broad-shouldered and a man of few words. He had a penetrating gaze that could pierce your heart, and he was interested in someone else; I always did love a challenge. He was perfect. Well, almost.

I mean, I knew when I saw him that there was an age gap, but I was thinking maybe six or seven years, ten at the most. Little did I know that there was more like 225 years between us. Plus, a blonde Slayer, a gypsy curse, a shockingly violent alter ego, and a whole mess of other things that eventually caused me to turn my energy away from the broody vampire called Angel, and toward boys my own age.

But the twinge never went away. Lusty thoughts of Angel continued to plague me all through my puppy-love with Xander Harris, my teenage infatuation with Wesley in his Watcher days, even through watching Angel get stripped away and locking horns with Angelus. In fact, disturbingly, I was even a little enamored of Angelus! Don't get me wrong; I knew he was the most sadistic bastard ever to walk the earth and I was happy to let Buffy deal with him, but some part of me _dug _the crazy fiend. How irksome is that?

When Angel left Sunnydale, and so did I, the naughty dreams stopped. I actually picked up a much healthier obsession with Matthew McConaughey, and my nocturnal fantasies involved being _his_ leading lady. But after seeing Angel again at that party three months later, my juices started to flow. Literally. I went home, ate my stolen star-shaped sandwiches and, well... alleviated a different kind of hunger. So, it probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world to work for him in his demon-fighting capacity, because once I did, I knew it would be all over. I would be lost again to lust. I tried to tell myself that constant and intense contact with the man himself would deaden (pardon the pun) his effect on me, and eventually the desire would wear off. But I was lying to myself, I knew in my heart of hearts.

And sure enough, the aching got worse, the more I learned about his champion's heart and fragile soul. Eventually, I fell in love, not just lust. And if you don't think that was messy... Sometimes I loved being by his side, fighting the good fight, getting visions and then getting all hot and bothered watching him do the follow-up. Other times it was torture, and I was tempted to flee. I wanted to climb him and couldn't. So I settled for _thinking_ about climbing him. For several years. Agony. Yes, agony! I always hid it well, never let my feelings show. For all my tortured panting from afar, I never stopped being myself around him.

But after he and Buffy parted ways in the police station, and after Darla staked herself in that alley... I don't know, I guess I began to think there was hope. I know that he's shackled by a curse that prevents him from having _true happiness_, but I began to rationalize that maybe now that he knows what could happen, he'll be so worried about losing his soul, he won't be able to have _true happiness_, even while he's having the sort of mind-blowing orgasm that I could give him. Guilt. That would do it. No one loves guilt like Angel loves guilt, and it could be the thing that would keep him grounded, and not evil. Don't you think that could have worked?

Of course then, things happened as they always do. I became part demon, Angel and I got posessed by the spirits of Russian ballet dancers, Holtz raised an army of misfits to take Angel out, Groo showed up, Wesley kidnapped Angel's baby, the baby came back three weeks later as a teenager and I ascended to a higher plane. There just wasn't time to broach the subject of a relationship, or even of shacking up together.

And then I lost my mind, in more ways than one.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

I told Connor to go upstairs.

As he did as I asked, the vampire in the cage called him "Mama's boy." A shiver went up my spine. It was a palpable reminder of my twisted entanglement with Angel's teenage son. What we had been through together, what we had done.

Just a few minutes before, I had been sitting alone in the Hyperion lobby watching the video monitor and listening to Angelus torment Connor. "When you think about it, the first woman you boned was the closest thing you've ever had to a mother."

It was the truth. I hadn't given birth to Connor, but I had changed his diapers, I had fed him his formula. I had made google eyes at him while he lay in his bassinet and I had rocked him to sleep. And less than six months later, I lay beneath him on the hard floor of his makeshift apartment as he thrust into me, both of us desperate to find solace in what we thought was a certain apocalypse. Of course I'd been thinking about Angel the whole time, imagining it was him, as I had with every lover I'd had since the age of seventeen.

Still, one cannot live inside one's head forever. When morning arrived and the end of the world hadn't, suddenly my recent life choices had seemed less like choices and more like insanity come to roost. That was a feeling with which I was to grow very familiar in the months to come. I hated myself for letting it happen, and Connor hated me for fleeing. Angel hated us both. It was hating-Cordy party, and a nightmare among the other disasters. I had, in four minutes (it being Connor's first time), ruined any chance of being with Angel, and destroyed his tenuous relationship with his son in the process.

Boy, I was in a funk. A black hole of a depression, actually, though I wouldn't say that I had a death wish. Though, as soon as Angelus was turned, I began to scheme, because I knew that he'd never give up any information about The Beast without some mighty sweet incentive. Yes, I knew that I'd probably be killed horribly, but the way I saw it, trust was not exactly rampant in our inner circle, what with Wesley's kidnapping and subsequent exiling, Fred and Gunn's obviously imploding relationship, Lorne's botched memory spell and Connor's suspected connection to The Beast. I had no other friends, no family outside this group, and I was convinced I'd be ostracized since the others had found out what I'd done.

I wanted to do something to show I was in it for the team, and I'd never get a chance like this again. Angelus would give me something that Angel would never agree to, and I guess I just figured it was worth it if it would get for me what I'd been jonesing for over the past seven years (or, close enough) and would help the heroes kill The Beast and bring back the sun.

Like I said, I lost my mind

As I turned off the security camera, the handsome monster smirked at me. In a mocking tone, he said, "Cordy, Cordy, Cordy! You just couldn't stay away."

He actually had no idea how close to the truth he was; he was just being evil. He was good at that.

"It's been a long day," I said. With only a touch of my inborn bravado, I added, "and I think you've done enough damage."

"So, no hug?"

"You and I are going to make a deal," I announced firmly.

"Tough," he commented. "Did you practice that in front of the mirror a few times?"

Damn. How did he know? Oh, that's right. He has Angel's memories. He _knows_ me.

Without missing a beat, Angelus continued, "Let me guess. You want to know about The Beast."

"Everything you know."

"Oh," he answered pleasantly. "And in return, I get what?" He began to walk, all aloof, to his left, as if to begin a slow pace. He had a beautiful profile. God, I wanted him to take me, but I had to play cool or I'd die before the chance ever came. "Wouldn't mind a car. I've heard the new Mustang is nice." he told me.

With those words, he looked me up and down lustily. Angelus did things, revealed things that Angel would never dare. I moistened, and I gave myself permission not to feel revulsion at the fact that something so evil could make me so slick between the legs. I was letting go of old hang-ups, much as Angel recently had. I was, in my own way, losing my soul as well.

He had now begun to pace, and I with him. "Something better," I said.

"What's a better ride than a Mustang?" he asked.

What a perfect question! What a perfect opportunity to say, "Me."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

THREE

"You?" Angelus asked, genuinely surprised.

Gee, the _one thing_ he hadn't seen coming.

"That's the offer," I told him. "No more stalling, no more games. You tell us what you know, you get me."

He smirked, and it actually hurt a little. Even though I knew never to take anything Angelus said seriously, I was afraid he was going to tell me he didn't want me.

"Must be some confusion," he said. "You took out the soul. Still have the brain."

"Then use it. The Beast, the darkness... the world is falling apart and we're out of time. We're out of ideas. You're the end of the line." It came out sounding more desperate and whiny than I'd hoped, but it got the point across.

"Wes was better at buttering me up," Angelus decided, turning away from me dismissively.

Taking a different tack, I said, "You know what it means to be a champion."

"I'm trying so hard to forget."

"Sometimes a sacrifice needs to be made."

He turned and faced me again, his amused, woefully handsome smirk deepening my desire further. Sarcastically, he said, "And you're the little lamb." Less sarcastically, he added, "Not that there aren't a few things I wouldn't mind doing to _that _body. Other than the obvious."

He was serious now. I had his attention, and he had me gushing with his lascivious words. He could probably smell my arousal, but I didn't care.

"Tell us about The Beast, and you can do whatever you want."

"You're lying," he said, not really believing it.

I took a huge risk stepping forward toward the cage. I hadn't been frightened when I came down the stairs, but I was a bit on the nervous side now. Nervous and horny. I wondered if this is how Buffy had felt when she'd been fighting him to the death.

"Look in my eyes. Angel knows me. _You_ know me... better than anyone. So when you look at me, you know I'm not lying."


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

Blood, sweat, grunting, screaming, my life draining away, ending

Blood, sweat, grunting, screaming, my life draining away, ending. His lips on me, his teeth and cock inside, his body heaving, thrusting, hurting me, drinking me.

When he smiled, my mind was afire with images, dark, base and nasty. The dark, base, nasty side of me embraced it all.

I wanted to tear off my clothes and press myself against the bars, but I knew I'd never make it out alive, and there was still work to be done. I went upstairs and made up some song and dance about how I had used my "higher powers" to convince Angleus to talk. No one was entirely fooled, least of all Connor. But I never told anyone that I'd just bargained my life away, agreed to allow Angelus to rape, torture and kill me in exchange for information. And that I was looking forward to it.

Wesley questioned Angelus, and Angelus told his tale. The Svea Priestesses had worked some kind of mojo in the days of yore, rendering the Beast impotent, and all the while remaining somehow immune to his wrath. That was why the Beast made contact with Angelus in the first place: he couldn't touch the high and mighty Priestesses, so he was attempting to recruit the baddest son of a bitch in the Old World to do his dirty work for him. Angelus refused, and the Beast was banished from this realm, à la Svea, there on a blood-soaked field in Prussia, only to awaken 215 years later under the streets of Los Angeles.

So we decided to try and track down the Svea family, if they still existed in modern-day. A lucky break on Gunn's part revealed a small branch of a vast family tree living, and having set up business in suburban Los Angeles. And wouldn't you know it? They'd been looking for us!

I didn't _want _to be there when The Beast was vanquished, but I was. Knowing I would probably be dead soon (or at least indisposed until the event of my death), I wanted to spend the time writing my friends, disclosing the secret of how I got Angelus to talk. I figured if they were going to find my mangled corpse on the basement floor, they deserved to know the truth. I also wanted to let them know where I'd hidden the Muo-Ping with Angel's soul inside, so that after I was gone, they could restore him.

And I wanted to write to Angel and tell him the truth about everything... how I've wanted him, loved him, why I've hurt him in the past, and why I decided to give myself to Angelus. I was counting on Angel coming back, but by then, Angelus would have killed me. I needed Angel to know that I forgave him, and to ask him to forgive _me_. I would have hoped that he could understand, as a champion himself, that I did it for the fate of the world, to bring the sun back... even if it was only half the truth.

But I didn't. Instead, I let Wes and Gunn convince me that without Angel in the mix, the more "firepower" we had, the better. Like I could actually be a substitute for Angel, but whatever. I do have that glowy-levitationy thing that I do... I guess it _could_ have been of use against the Beast.

Fortunately, I never had the chance to find out. Wes, Gunn, Connor, a couple of the Svea brothers and I tracked it down in a parking garage in Orange County, while Fred and Lorne watched over the blood-sucking beast in the basement of the Hyperion. The boys all got pretty beat up before the Priestesses arrived, but as soon as they were in the vicinity, the Beast seemed to weaken. His rock hide was still impenetrable, but he stopped lashing out with unstoppable, blinding force. While we all aimed useless weapons at him, the Priestesses chanted in some language I'd never heard (though I'm pretty sure it was at least a _human _language), and the Beast vanished in a jet of pink light.

"Where did he go?" I asked, curious.

I expected an evasive, mystical answer from one of the Svea Pristesses, but instead, the youngest one answered with a valley-girl accent, "To a parallel-dimension version of Milwaukee. It'll take him a lot longer than 215 years to punch his way back from there!" She smiled, revealing ceramic braces, then pulled out her cell phone so she could make plans with someone named "Steph."

When we came back to the Hyperion, I volunteered to give Angelus his afternoon feeding, much to the relief of the exhausted band of heroes. It reminded my horrifically of one night when Connor was a baby, and we'd pulled an all-nighter. He cried for his morning bottle, and because Angel looked tired beyond tired, I volunteered to heat up the bottle and feed the baby. Angel had shown the same relief on his face that Wes, Gunn and Connor had shown just now.

My, how things had changed. I sighed as I removed the warm glass of pig's blood from the microwave, and didn't bother to put down the crossbow I'd been carrying. Everyone else had gone upstairs to wash up, possibly to nap, and it occurred to me that I might never see them again. I began my death march to the basement door and opened it. I set the glass down on the railing, took aim at the security camera, and destroyed it with one _swoosh_ of my arrow. I locked the door behind me, picked up the glass again and started down the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

"Beast go boom?" he asked, smirking at the dead video camera, then turning a lustful gaze toward my cleavage.

Damn it. All over again, he was making my blood boil. He must have sensed it because the penetrating stare he gave me said, "I'm going to fuck you." Whether he meant literally or figuratively, I wasn't so sure.

"We are going to establish one major ground rule," I announced, setting down the crossbow and the glass of blood.

"Are we, now?" he said, barely audibly. "What if I decide not to play?"

I ignored the question.

I said, "This all goes down inside the cage. If you try anything funny, try to escape, whatever, deal's off. We hunt you down, shove the soul back in."

"What if the Legion of Honor comes down here, finds you dead and they stake me for killing you?" he asked, not really believing it would happen. He was just testing me.

"I left a note in the weapons cabinet letting everyone know where your soul is hidden. They'll bring Angel back before they'll dust you," I explained. I was bluffing... I'd hidden the Muo-Ping in my desk drawer, figuring they'd go through my things after my death. I hadn't considered that they might dust Angelus before having the chance. Oh well, too late now.

Angelus was quiet for a long time, and then he said, "We have a deal, then."

I picked up the glass of blood and stepped toward the cage. Angelus politely stepped away. I was oddly not nervous, but was beginning to become very aroused. I unlocked the gate, and left the key just outside the arm's reach line Wesley had drawn around the cage. I stepped inside and pulled it shut behind me. This was it. I was inside the Lion's den.

I held out the glass to him, and he took it with a solemn "Thank you." He sipped it, and then looked at it quizzically. Then he looked at me, and said, "You know, I guess I won't be needing this." He put it aside.

We circled each other in the cage for a few moments, staring intently. My pulse was quickening by the second... from nerves and desire and a maybe little bit of fear. Being locked in a cage with Angelus was delivering a healthy dollop of _what the hell am I doing_ syndrome.

Finally, I asked tentatively, "What is it that you want?"

"You know what I want. And I know what you want. I can smell it. I've smelled it on you for years... Angel was always just too gentlemanly to say so."

All in one swift motion, he took a step toward me and pushed my jacket down my arms, locking my elbows at my sides. I gasped in surprise, but when he shoved his face at my throat to smell me, I moaned. I'd like to say it was a totally involuntary reaction, but some part of me knew what it was doing.

When he showed his face to me, he was smirking again. "No fear," he said, his voice rattling with anticipation. "I hate that in a girl. Let's see what we can do about that." His human face morphed into vampire, and he went back to my throat.

I felt a sharp, but small poke, as if he were trying to bite me, but had a metal rod stuck in his mouth. I felt a small trickle of blood drip down my neck, and then I saw it. It stained the top of the boat-neck of my blouse.

He looked at me again, and showed me his handsome human visage once more. Again, he was sensing no fear. No more smirk this time. Now he was kind of pissed.

Still not raising his voice, he asked me, "What, do you have a death wish? Are you so ashamed of what you did with Connor, that you actually welcome death?"

Okay, now _that _hit a nerve, and he could tell. The smirk came back, and then stretched into a fully-fledged smile.

"Humans! You people kill me," he laughed. "It's just sex! Just an animal instinct that you all let destroy your worlds. Hmm!"

Then, he lowered his voice again and pushed his body as close to me as it could get without touching. I don't think he expected any longer that I would shrink from him. He put his mouth very close to my ear and whispered, "Don't you think it's _silly _Cordelia? It's just two bodies rubbing together in the dark. Just a little sweat, just a little heat, then silky, wet pleasure..." he sucked in some air between his teeth.

I was practically panting, and dripping wet by now, and of course he knew it. He put his hands on my neck and cradled my head rather gently, which pushed his body even closer. He continued to whisper. "A little in and out," he said, and nipped at my ear. "A little pressure building, a little panting, a little thrusting, clutching, faster and faster..." his voice trailed off. "Faster and faster until..."

With that, he slammed me up against the bars of the cage. Now he was pressed completely against me with no air between us, and I could feel him below the waist, now hardening because of the longing look on my face. His words had put me in a sexual trance, and the loud noise and shock to my body had made me intensely disappointed that it brought no actual release for me. I was reminded that it was _Angelus _I was dealing with, and "release" could mean orgasm or death... I supposed both would come eventually. Either one could have been cathartic at this point.

He planted his arms on the bars on either side of my head, and rasped menacingly, "You're going to die, Chase," and he bit me properly, on the left side of my throat. He took a few spiteful gulps from my vein, and I could feel him hardening even more as he began to drink from me.


	6. Chapter 6

**_FAIR WARNING: In case you haven't been paying attention thus far, this story is about to get very violent and very sexual. The combination of the two may disturb some people. If you are one of them, do not read any further._**

**_To my way of thinking, there are a couple of ways to interpret Cordelia's lot here. I choose to think of it as empowering, twisted though it may be._**

* * *

SIX

I yelped against my will, and then he jerked me away from the bars, punched me across the jaw, knocking me to the concrete floor.

I lay on my back, bleeding from the throat, my arms still bound by my coat, staring up at the face of my friend, knowing there was a monster in the driver's seat. Now deadly serious, he got to his knees between my legs. He popped the button off my jeans and broke the zipper, and practically ripped them down my legs, and off. The panties he really did rip to shreds. He pushed his hands roughly up inside my blouse, pushed my bra up over my breasts, and squeezed hard. I groaned at the pain of vampire strength exerting itself on my most sensitive parts. Angelus smiled, and squeezed harder, searching my face for something... what it was, I couldn't tell. I continued to groan, and he continued to squeeze.

Then he pulled his shirt impatiently over his head, leaving his beautiful bare chest exposed. He unzipped the fly of his loose-fitting pants and exposed his diamond-hard cock, and he wasted no time thrusting into me.

Of course, he wouldn't just fuck me mindlessly. Angelus _never_ did anything mindlessly. He took his time at the beginning, smiled at me viciously, groaned lasciviously, and asked me how _he _felt inside me compared to his son, already knowing the answer. His pace quickened with regularity, though, and before long, the carefully-crafted mind games of Angelus were losing themselves in the blind fog of... whatever he was feeling. What comes after lust but before murderous lunacy?

He began to pound, speechlessly. My arms were painfully pressed behind my back, made all the more painful by the weight of a 230-pound vampire repetitively driving me into the floor. I was bleeding, bruised, in pain and pretty much helpless. But in spite of all that, I was flushed with pleasure. I was being raped, yet I moaned in ecstasy. I knew that I should be disgusted with myself, but I had come into this cage determined to get what I'd been wanting all these long years, and now I was getting it. No surprise that my body was on fire, slick with the hunger of seven years for _this _moment.

But when I moaned, it made him angry. He wanted me humiliated and scared. He growled the word, "fuck," kept on thrusting, but placed his forearm across my mouth to keep me quiet.

He was a big guy with a nice chiseled chest, and yeah, he had a nice long cock which was hitting all the right places inside me, but mostly it was the anticipation. I was reveling in the thrill of the chase... he thought he was raping me, but really, I was triumphing. I'd wanted this body for years, and I had gotten it, and I was not going to let a silly thing like fear of death get in my way. And, I had helped save the world from The Beast in the process!

His arm couldn't keep me silent. Even with my mouth covered, I let out a muffled moan, more deeply this time, and he pounded the cement with his fist, and screamed, "Shut up!" For a few seconds he held my mouth and nose closed, as if to suffocate me, but it didn't last very long – he didn't want me to pass out.

I was too far gone to do anything but ignore his demand, and began the age-old spiral toward climax, asking him to thrust harder, faster, oh God oh God, yes yes yes... which caused him to backhand me with all the strength he could muster while his lower half stayed in rhythm. Though it hurt quite a lot (and might have fractured my jaw), the blow to the face didn't do much to slow me down. I hardly even reacted to it.

Angelus was in machine mode now, nearing climax himself. He was staring hungrily at the blood oozing from my throat, and I suddenly knew what he would do. He wanted to sink his fangs in, and come as he drained me. It had a certain kind of twisted poetry about it, and it made a sort of sense.

But I sensed that he was holding back. He had that "thinking about baseball" look on his face that guys sometimes get when they don't want to come too soon.

He hit me again, this time with his left hand, leaving a bruise in a completely different spot on my face. This blow was not as hard, and I knew the man well enough to know that another one was coming. I was right. But I was determined to enjoy myself, my one chance with Angel, even if it killed me.

A few more half-hearted assaults later, he cried out, "Scream, goddamn it! Scream!"

I realized he'd been trying to get me to scream all along, which really would have topped off the experience: get the girl to scream in fear and humiliation, then pop your load as you drain her dry. The screaming, the fear, it makes the blood all salty and hot, or so I'd been told. It's the wet dream every vampire has, but few are patient enough to pursue.

But I didn't scream. Instead, I slid luxuriously into orgasm. Angelus couldn't hold back anymore, and grunted as a jet of lukewarm sticky filled me up. He closed his eyes, held himself up on his arms as he spasmed a few times, the intensity leaving him. As he calmed, he opened his eyes and anger flashed at the surface. I steeled myself for another blow, another bite, the _coup de grâce _that would kill me as I'd been expecting would happen, but it never came.

Instead, he stood up hastily and zipped his fly. I wriggled free of the coat binding my arms, and slithered back into my jeans, stuffing the scraps of underwear back in the pocket. The zipper and button were hopelessly broken, but the pants were tight enough to stay up, and my shirt was long enough to cover it. I turned my back, unwisely, to Angelus and manoeuvered myself properly back into my bra.

Angelus paced around the cage in agitation, and finally punched the wall, screaming "Son of a _bitch!_"

I supposed that in the past, the violence and malevolence he had shown on me had succeeded in turning women in to quivering masses of fear. To have failed to have that effect on me was a serious blow to his vampirehood or whatever – no wonder he was pissed. I knew then that I would not die today; I could see now why he was no longer interested in killing me just yet.

He calmed down very suddenly and looked at me.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, placidly but menacingly at the same time.

"No, you're really not," I said.


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

Angelus used my high-heeled shoe to reach the key that I'd thrown just out of his arm's reach. Having mutually decided that the game was not over yet, he let me out of the cage, but stayed inside himself, with no apparent thought of escape. I knew he could have turned the tables on me in a heartbeat and been free to terrorize Los Angeles – the fact that he didn't do it said something. It showed that he was intrigued.

It showed that he wasn't the only one who could maniuplate and screw with people's minds.

There was no smirk to be seen on his face, and his eyes bore holes into mine as I closed him into the cell once more. Wordlessly, I retrieved the wooden arrow I had used to shoot the surveillance camera, and walked up the stairs. I made a quick trip to the back alley to toss the arrow into the dumpster, and then came back inside.

Wesley was coming down the stairs, wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a clean tee-shirt, toweling his hair dry. I panicked a bit, because I knew that my face must have been colored with a million shades of black and blue by now, not to mention the fairly distinctive bite marks on my neck. I didn't need him, or anyone else, asking questions. Fortunately, he said hello without really looking at me, and then became immediately distracted by the fact that the surveillance monitor on the hotel desk was buzzing with white noise and a screenful of snow.

"Damn," I heard him say, hitting the side of the monitor. "What's wrong now?"

I went behind the desk for some ice, carefully keeping my back to him. I bundled all of the ice from the mini-fridge into a clean dustrag from the housekeeping cabinet. I was seriously hoping my bruises would fade in short order so that I wouldn't have to make up some stupid-ass story about how I came by them. In this crowd, in our line of work, "I fell down the stairs, silly me," really doesn't fly.

"Cordelia, the screen's on the blink again, can you hand me a screwdriver?" Wes mumbled, still fiddling with the knobs and buttons and mercifully not looking at me.

I went into Angel's office for a screwdriver, and then handed it to him.

"I'll be upstairs," I told him, walking away. I would have hidden my wounds and ice pack, but there was no need. Wesley was absorbed in the damage I'd done to the closed-circuit monitor. I hauled myself into my room, and shut the door behind me. I took a cool shower to help ease some of the discoloration on my face, rinsed the blood off my neck, and then I sat against my headboard with the ice pack, moving it from cheek to eye to jaw to neck and back.

My inner thigh muscles ached from being stretched open and pounded. My shoulder joints were sore from my arms being bound behind me under my weight and Angelus'. My back was pinching me in a couple of places because of the unnatural combination of pressures that had recently been put upon my body. But my nether regions... you know, my loins, my naughty bits... they were still humming with satisfaction and anticipation.

And yet, I dozed. I woke with a start, covered in cold water with a soaked rag on my chest. The clock told me I'd been out for less than forty-five minutes, but when I woke up, it was as if I'd asleep for about four years. The utterly gruesome reality of what had transpired hit me like a ton of bricks, and I began inwardly to panic. Not about being raped or beaten or bitten. About the fact that I had asked for it. Not just submitted to it, but _asked for it_. About the fact that I had responded to imminent death by having a thoroughly rewarding orgasm. About the fact that I had returned to my room bleeding and bruised, and still jonesing for more. What kind of sick puppy was I becoming? Had my desperate love for Angel and recent self-loathing now merged and morphed into some kind of life-swallowing monster?

Disgust with myself was becoming a comfy alternative to the holding back I'd been doing since knowing Angel, and I was now awash in it. I stood up and peeled back the covers, stripped off my bathrobe and crawled into my warm bed. I hoped that some good, long sleep would bring not only faded bruises but greater perspective.

But when I closed my eyes then, and lay still, I could feel him. His hands on my breasts, hurting me. His body pressed against mine, plunging in and out. His face burning with malice and lust. His come spurting into me and the out-of-control grunt that came with it. Over and over these images assaulted my mind, and the harder I tried to push them away, the more vivid, the more sordid they became. Instinctively, I slid my hand between my legs and turned over on my side. Not wanting to draw out this depraved moment, I clamped my legs together, tightly compressing my hand to my crotch. I brought myself off quickly, with a throaty little groan, then slid helplessly again into sleep.

To my surprise, my last thought before being overtaken was "You will _never_ make me scream, Angelus."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Please note: quite a bit (but certainly not all) of chapters 8 and 9 are lifted directly from the episode "Calvary." Please pardon my shameless thievery from mid-season 4!**_

_**Again, the Continuity Police might be pulling out their hair: my story assumes that with the revelation of the Beast's master, the heroes' first assumption is that **__**he**__** (or it) stole Angel's soul. All of this is not without purpose, for it gives Cordy (though not evil) a ruse. **_

EIGHT

What the hell? _You will never make me scream, Angelus?_ Yeah, when Angelus and I agreed that we weren't finished, I had meant it. But I had been all insane and lusty and adrenaline-soaked at the time. And if I'm honest, I hadn't been entirely lucid the night before when those words came to me in my intoxicated half-sleep either. But was there _really_ some part of me that was still entertaining the notion of a "next time" with Angelus?

Well, fortunately, I was plenty lucid the next morning, and able to see the suicidal lunacy of that particular train of thought. Our "agreement" implied a game of chicken to the death, in which Angelus tries to make me scream, and I try not to die by refraining. Last night, it had sounded perilous, and made me all hot. But today the fog was gone – I knew I'd gone nuts and needed to catch the first train back to reality.

I'd done something reckless in giving myself to Angelus, in exchange for information. I'd gotten lucky and survived. I should take my life and run with it. The light of day showed me that there could be no more engaging Angelus. I resolved simply to give back the Muo-Ping, explain myself, try my best to make amends with the others, and stand by and wait for Angel to return to us.

Of course, the bruises hadn't magically lifted as the fog had. I'd been a dolt to hope they would – I'd been knocked around enough to know that bruises look even worse the next day. It was still early February, and I could have gotten away with hiding the bite marks with a turtle-neck, but how would I hide the the facial bruises? With a burqa? My friends just _might_ have become a tad suspicious of that.

Instead, I opted for the noble tradition of hiding out. Restoring Angel's soul would just have to wait. For the next four mornings, Fred came to wake me after I'd already overslept, and I told her I was sick. Each morning, she had a quick tidbit of info for me, "Wesley still hasn't been able to fix the camera," or "Still no leads on who stole the Muo-Ping," and, "Angelus sang something from _La Traviata_ yesterday." Other than that, they left me pretty much alone.

As far as I know, the others never got suspicious that I was hiding anything, and on the fifth day, the black and blue had subsided to the point where I could at least hide it with makeup. So I used my considerable makeup-application talent, put on a black turtle neck and ventured out to the Hyperion lobby.

"Cordy! You're feeling better!" Gunn said happily as I came down the stairs. He came up to the landing to greet me with a hug. It was a welcome gesture from a guy who's not exactly known for his emotional outpourings.

As I reached the main part of the room, Lorne and the others approached me. "Well, morning greetings to our ailing ally!" he said, also hugging me. Fred took her turn third.

Wesley simply kissed me on the forehead with a weak smile. "Connor's in the basement keeping watch," he told me, with an attempt at casual. But I knew Wes too well – something was about to go down.

"What's going on, guys?" I asked pointedly, letting them know that I was hip to the dark vibe.

They all looked at each other, but Fred spoke first.

"We've been trying to find out where Angel's soul is – if it was stolen, magicked out of the safe, or even if it's still viable."

"And?" I asked.

"Nada," Gunn said flatly.

Wes explained, "For lack of a better option, we've decided to go speak to Wo-Pang, the shaman."

"Well, not so much speak to him as break down his door and beat up his lame-ass guards," Gunn added.

My stomach lurched. Angel's soul was still floating in a jar in my desk drawer upstairs. I hadn't yet told them what I'd done, and during my period of being "sick," I'd had second thoughts about coming clean and explaining myself. I remembered what had happened when Wesley had kidnapped baby Connor with good intentions. I had taken something just as precious, but _without_ the good intentions. Wes had taken six months to work his way back into the group, and relations were still a bit rocky. How long would it take for me?

"Who's going?" I asked.

"I thought I'd take Connor, since it's almost time for Gunn's shift on sentry duty in the basement," Wes answered. "Lorne, do you still have some contacts that we haven't tried? A psychic or perhaps just someone in the underworld who knows something?"

"I'll hit the rolodex again this afternoon, but I think that wellspring is nearly dry." Lorne replied.

"I want to come with you," I said to Wesley suddenly. It came out a lot more anxious than I had hoped. Once more, my fear of being ostracized reared its ugly head, and if Wo-Pang could psychically discern where Angel's soul was hidden, I was certainly in for a shunning. I wanted to be on the front lines of the first to know.

Wes tried to protest, to tell me that I should concentrate on "getting better," but he knew my mind was made up. Gunn took his place guarding Angelus while Wes, Connor and I went to see a man about a soul.

Fortunately, I was let off the hook. Despite Connor and Wesley's thorough pummeling of the shaman's security team, Wo-Pang claimed he knew nothing, could ascertain nothing, could _do _nothing without the Muo-Ping. It struck me as odd that ancient magicks would not provide a shaman with a plan B.

But I kept my mouth shut. I began thinking about ways out of this mess.

When we returned to the hotel, Gunn was not at his station in the basement, but standing with Fred in the lobby.

Fred asked uneasily, "You guys have any luck?"

"Yeah, but it was all bad," Connor told her. "Shaman doesn't have the soul, doesn't know who took it, doesn't know how to find it."

"Other than that, everything's peachy," I said. "Any word from Lorne and his contacts?"

Fred shook her head "no."

A lound bang came from the basement. It sounded like something heavy and metal clanging against Angelus' cage.

"Damn it!" Gunn rasped, and sprinted down into the basement. His Angelus-watch duty had been shirked. We all followed him.

That's when we found Lilah Morgan in the basement with a crow bar, on God-knows-what suicidal mission, talking to Angelus. Gunn tranquilized Angelus with a single dart as the vampire reached for, and missed, Lilah's neck. She fled off into the sewers, I assumed, the way she had come in, and Wesley chased her. Connor double-checked the lock on the cage, to be sure that the crowbar hadn't done any damage, then kicked the thing away from Angelus' reach.

I stared at Angelus' prostrate figure on the floor. He was out cold for the moment, so I felt free. It was the first time I'd seen him since... you know when, and I felt a now-familiar mixture of revulsion and desire. I couldn't help but point out to myself that the worm had turned: there _he_ was, all weak and helpless and on _his_ back. I could do anything I wanted to him at that moment. I imagined chaining his wrists to the bars with enchanted, unbreakable cuffs, and teasing, angering him slowly. Maybe I'd keep him naked and have my own clothes on... maybe the other way around. Maybe...

Oh swell. Here we go again with the sordid and the moistening and the insanity. You'd think it would be out of my system by now, but no such luck. Crap.

Gunn brought me out of it by asking, "What kind of brain-fart made that witch try and let Angelus out?"

"I want to know how she even knew he was here," I thought aloud.

"Maybe she took Angel's soul," Connor offered.

Oh yeah, that. I still had to get out of this I-stole-the-soul pickle I'd put myself in.

"Maybe the Beast has minions out there doing the dirty work. I mean, the big rock is gone, but he may still have followers or something," Gunn suggested.

"Morons!" said a voice from the cage. "It _was _the minion," Angelus announced as he slowly began to sit up.

"No it wasn't. We've seen what it could do," Fred said.

"You've just seen the warm-up act."

"What are you saying?" I asked him.

"I'm saying there's something bigger, something worse," Angelus revealed. "The beast had a boss."

Our disbelief irritated Angelus, which was ironic because since when did he try to offer _help_? Well, except to show off how much he knows. And when given the proper motivation, as I well knew. I, knowing exactly who'd stolen his soul, did not want to believe that there had been some greater power controlling the beast, and he asked me how I'd survived thus far being so retarded.

I saw an opportunity, so I stopped being retarded and spoke up. "It's worth looking into. I can get into research mode and look for any demons or sorcerers who, like, collect souls or something, that could have been controlling the Beast." I began to walk briskly up the stairs.

Fred followed me up, and through the door and into the lobby as she spoke. "Wesley and I have done that. We've checked every book from _Mehrenstadt_ text to the _Harpercollins Atlas of Hell _, and the only one on record was a soul-eater defeated, bound and buried by the Chumash a couple hundred years ago. No recent activity," Fred told me. "We haven't found anything useful."

"And even if we find the Beast's boss, we're definitely gonna need Angel." I thought fast. I needed to be left alone for a while with the books. "Well, have you researched the original gypsy curse? Why can't we just duplicate the original magicks used to ensoul Angel in the first place?"

I knew from my tenure in Sunnydale, the first time Angelus got free, that gypsy magicks are pretty much lost, and that it took a mighty tenacious (and now dead) woman who had not only grown up around gypsies and their magicks, but had an advanced degree in computer programming to translate the texts. But Fred didn't know that. It bought me a bit of time to spend with spell books. I figured when Wesley returned from toiling in the sewers with Lilah, my jig would be up, so I had to act fast.

"You're right... we should be concentrating on how to get Angel back without finding the Muo-Ping. You do that, and I'll try to take some other avenues of looking into the Beast's boss. There's nothing written on the Beast, but maybe we'll get lucky with the one who was controlling him."

So Fred and I went our separate ways to do separate research. It was the beginning of my hatching of a plan that was about to make everything worse.


	9. Chapter 9

_**My unsolicited advice: Instead of looking at it as a rehash of old events, think of it as an intriguing new perspective and a sneak peek into character motivations!**_

NINE

I won't pretend that I have any skill for research, especially in a thinking-outside-the-box sort of way, which is what I needed to do now. I just had an unfortunate epiphany, part and parcel of my recent insanity: dark magick. Surely Wes and Fred had only researched 'good' ways of re-ensouling, not dark ways. Perhaps it was my newfound insanity doing the thinking, but I figured white magick or dark, Angel would still have his soul back, and that was a good thing. Cut and dry, right?

Right, because dark magick is always cut and dry. In fairly short order, even before Wesley came back to the hotel with Superbitch, I found a spell called _Swathe of the Soulless._ The re-envelopping of someone who had lost their soul. I figured it was worth a shot. But there was a catch. _Swathe of the Soulless_ was actually written in some ridiculous hybrid of English, Latin and a demon language (of course, unidentifiable to me). Wesley and Lorne, the only ones among us who would have had a fighting chance with it, were both out and about. So that left me.

Using a very old Latin dictionary that Wesley had left in the office, I muddled through. It's a miracle I didn't gouge my own eyes out. I was able to infer that the ingredients were: seven conduits (people), seven white candles, seven talismans made from the bones of fowl, twigs from native trees, three "sacred" talons taken from birds of prey, the blood of the subject of the spell (Angelus), and a given incantation, mercifully, in standard-issue Latin. Oh yeah, and the skull of a soul-eater.

I knew Wesley should have no trouble with Latin, so I brought the spell to him. In his hopeful haste, he did not bother to look at it nor to ask where it came from. Bad on him, eh? He simply said something about "a fresh pair of eyes," and pushed full steam ahead to find all the ingredients.

Obtaining the soul-eater's skull was an interesting matter. I remembered what Fred had said about the Chumash Tribe defeating the only soul-eater on record, so I looked it up. Sure enough: one and the same. Gunn and Connor went out to bring back its head, though not without some difficulty, I heard. While they were doing that, Wesley and Connor tranquilized Angelus to take some of his blood, Lorne went up to the storage area on the fourth floor to find some candles, and Fred and I went dumpster-diving for chicken bones, and road-kill-scraping for the claws we'd need. Have I mentioned that sometimes I hate my job?

I was exhausted, but hopeful. Though the morning after my violent tryst with Angelus had brought a degree of clarity, my four days of solitude had twisted me all in knots again. My deception was making me a nervous wreck, and my earlier handcuff-to-the-bars fantasy showed me that I was far from getting past my twisted lust for sex and danger with Angelus. I wanted it over, the deception and the twistedness. I was more than ready for my Angel to come back. If he didn't, my baser proclivities would certainly have driven me back in that cage with Angelus at some point, and next time, I might not survive, even if I didn't scream. Although it meant having to face the music with Angel later on, I couldn't allow it to happen again.

We set up a sacred circle in the basement while Angelus looked on, mocking. I dripped some of Angelus' blood onto the skull in the middle of the floor. There were seven of us to act as conduits: Fred, Lorne, Wesley, Gunn, Connor, Lilah and I. We stood in a line from the sacred circle to the cage.

As Wes began to chant, and the candles flared up, Angelus became more and more agitated, more and more desperate. He did not stop talking until a bolt of something invisible went through him, and white tendrils of light began seeping from the skull. As conduits, our talismans deflected the magicks and directed them toward Angelus. They enveloped him, lifting him off the floor. Suddenly, the skull exploded, the white lights disappeared and the vampire in the cage was sent tumbling to the concrete, face-down. The spell was cast.

"Angel?" I asked.

He looked at me, and gasped, "_I'm so sorry_," and then quickly broke eye contact. As he got to his feet, he sputtered about various pieces of memories he retained from the past few days, including the revelation that the Beast has a superior. This was to be expected – when newly-ensouled, Angel traditionally had sketchy memories of recent events.

Wesly, sensibly, suggested that in order to be sure, Angel should sing, and Lorne should read him. Angel seemed reluctant, and I figured it was because even on a good day, he hated to sing, and today was decidedly not a good day. Nevertheless, Angel warbled a few bars of _Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head_.

Lorne announced happily, "The aura's totally changed! The vibe screams 'soul'!" He kissed me on the head for finding the right spell, and was exhuberantly satisfied that our champion had returned. I cannot begin to describe the relief that I felt. Now I could get rid of all evidence of the Muo-Ping, and never have to risk a confession of my evil, disgusting deeds. Only Angel would now know what I had done, and I knew I could trust him not to tell.

Funny thing was, Angel showed visible relief as well.

Also funny: he didn't want to be let out of the cage. He said he was "doing what's best for the group. Since when does magic come with a guarantee? For all we know, this spell is only temporary, and God forbid..." he trailed off. "I can give orders from down in here."

And he did just that, after a tentatively delivered pep-talk, promising that Angelus' mindfucks were just lies. He sent Fred and Wes back to the books to try to figure out who the Beastmaster is, Lorne back to his contacts, and Connor and Gunn out on patrol. Even Lilah had a task: making coffee.

"Cordy," he began.

"No."

"I didn't say anything," he said.

"True. But I thought I should tell you up front that I don't take orders from guys too scared to step out of their cages."

For the first time, he met my eyes. Now it was my turn to be surprised at _his_ lack of flinching.

"I made the right call. This way everyone stays safe."

Fully holding his gaze, I said, "And you don't have to look anybody in the eyes. Bonus."

I had meant for that statement to be fraught with angst and meaning. After all, during Angelus' guest appearance, whom had he fucked over worse than me? Angelus knew I enjoyed it, but Angel would feel the guilt of having brutally beaten and raped his best friend. And if he could stand there and look _me_ in the eye, he could sure as hell go upstairs and play with the others.

He looked away finally, and sighed heavily. "I hate that you saw me like that."

I felt the full weight his words, though he wasn't saying it all. I knew there would be more tears and recriminations in the days to come, because not only did I see him at his worst, but he felt that he had violated me horribly. Unforgivably. I sighed heavily as well. "I guess it's only fair. Angelus saw me at not one of my most shining moments." This was my way of acknowledging to him that it was _my_ shameful deeds, _my_ fear, _my_ uncontrolled lust that drove me into that cage. In short, I was accepting blame, which none of Angelus' victims had ever done for him. In light of his century-long struggle with Angelus' past, I thought it quite elegant.

I went further. "Besides, you're not him. You think we don't get that, but we do."

He hesitated, glancing around the cage. "What if the spell doesn't last?"

"The Powers need a champion, Angel. And obviously, they need one pretty bad, way things are going. Who knows? You might even be their only hope, Obi-Wan." I smiled for the first time in days.

He smiled as well. A real smile, not the handsome smirk that boiled my blood.

But don't get me wrong, I felt the smile too.

He looked up at the door at the top of the stairs. "So how do I go up there?"

"Easy." I reduced my voice almost to a whisper. "Leave him, and what you did, inside the cage."

I unlocked the door, and he stepped toward me. Unbarred, soulful, still as hot as ever, and now sharing a shameful secret, we were physically closer than we had been since _that day_. Oddly, I could smell him, his sweat, his musk or whatever, and it made me melt. I found that my old straightforward puppy lust for Angel was comforting, and so much less scary than whatever it was that made me go after Angelus. We were back. Well, mostly. We'd still have a lot to work through.

He savoured the moment. He at the bars and slowly stepped outside the cell. I whispered to my friend, "You're not Angelus." I took his hand and began to lead him away, put he pulled me back brusquely.

In the split second before I realized the truth, I actually dared to hope he was pulling me in for a kiss. A hard, licentious, cathartic kiss, something I badly needed and wanted from him. The force with which he yanked on my hand was even a turn-on (quelle surprise).

But that wasn't what he wanted at all.

When I saw his face, his vampire visage was showing, and Angelus answered my final words with a gleeful, "Guess again!"


	10. Chapter 10

TEN

I was out cold, but only for a short time before Fred shook me awake. Angel, she said, had told her that I had let him out, and then briskly left the hotel claiming he had to go "save the world." She began to find it odd that I hadn't come upstairs with him, so she decided to investigate.

The heroes went out on a search-and-destroy mission to find Angelus, deeming bringing him in alive "not an option." This was alarming to me, but I felt that it was the punishment I'd brought upon myself, the universe's retribution for my bad judgment and selfishness. I had driven wedge after wedge between myself and Angel, I had facilitated the bringing about of Angelus, stolen his soul then covered my tracks, and then advocated for a dark spell that allowed Angelus to fool us, and I let the murderous bastard out of his cage. And now, Angel might be taken from me forever. I guessed that I deserved it, even if Angel himself did not.

Of course, as soon as the cavalry left the building, Angelus doubled back, knowing I'd be too weak to have joined the hunting party. He found me in the lobby with Lilah lamenting my horrid life, wondering...

"What's it all for?" he finished, mockingly. He jumped down from the balcony amid a series of futile gun blasts from Lilah. Who did she think that would kill, anyway?

In my haste, I shot at him shoddily with a crossbow, and he simply plucked it out of the air. In retort, he threw it back at me, and it lodged in my left thigh. "This time," he yelled, "you stay down!"

He made some innuendos directed at Lilah, then gave her a ten-second head start. Once we were alone, that old smirkiness came back as he warned me, "Don't be jealous, kitten. I'm saving the good stuff for you."

I cursed the reaction this elicited. There I was again, head injury not healed, leg bleeding and me helpless on the floor, and once again, I wanted it... wanted him to press me against the cold marble floor and _mistreat_ me all over again. I could have done without the arrow in my thigh, but the fact that it left me vulnerable was just feeding my disgusting desires. I was glad he'd gone, otherwise he would have delighted in it. Like before, he surely would have known what I was thinking.

I stayed put, and in spite of myself, said a little prayer for Lilah as Angelus pursued her. I figured he'd come back for me eventually, but who was I kidding? Was I really going to flee from him? I was back in the black mire of misery I'd been in when I'd made the decision to give myself to Angelus in exchange for intel.

_Come get me, Angelus. Let's finish what we started._

Wes, Gunn, Connor and Fred found me in the lobby a short time later. While Fred and Connor tended to my wound, Gunn and Wes gave chase through the hotel, but in vain. When it was all over, Lilah was dead and Angelus was on the loose.

In support of Wesley, who we all knew held some feeling for Lilah, we all went upstairs a bit later to wrap and retrieve the body. It was decided that she be decapitated in order to ensure that she not rise again with a thirst for blood. I thought that was pretty good thinking – Lilah had been an intelligent, conniving human being. Angelus would no doubt have thought she'd be make a fascinating vampire.

But it gave me a new kind of dread. Something, maybe the glowy demon part of me, told me to heed this dread.

Instead, I pushed it down. It had been one of the longest days of our lives. We were all battered and bruised, emotionally and physically. I personally had had my head bashed against some bars and an arrow stuck in my leg, not to mention the "old" bruises on my face and the bite marks on my neck. Now, it was three in the morning, and I needed to rest – we all did. I attempted to put my fears to bed, while I did the same with my body.

Though I fell asleep quickly, it was a fitful sleep. My mind was in turmoil over my feelings, and my body was screaming with pain in several places. I was frightened, hurting, depressed and lustful, all entwined and revolving around Angelus. I woke at 3:21, then at 3:34, then at 3:50, then at 4:07. I could not coax myself into staying asleep. Each time, I woke with a bit of a start, as if something in my unremembered dreams were thrusting me back into consciousness.

Again, at 4:26, I woke. Again, with a start. I cursed my indecisive insomnia and threw myself back down onto my pillow. And then my eyes flew open.

Had I really seen what I saw?

"Yes, my love, I really am here," he said softly, sitting in a chair across the room, as though he had been there for some time.

_Oh shit._

I sat up and looked at him. Out of the shadows, Angelus stood and swaggered, as only he can, over to my bed and sat down near my feet. I could see his face clearly now, though it was still dark in my room. His pale skin was lit with blue moonlight, and he looked diabolically beautiful.

He smiled sweetly. "Whatcha been thinkin' about, dumpling?" He knew the answer, of course.

I hesitated a bit before speaking, but finally, without looking at him, I said "Bruises. Teeth marks. Bump on my head. Hole in my thigh." Not exactly a lie. "You?" I asked him.

"Oddly, I too have been thinking about your _thigh_," he said. The last word came out dripping with malice and sex. He smiled again. "Only not about the hole _in _your thigh, but the one..."

"Stop right there. What do you want?"

"Came in through the basement, saw the Anne Boleyn commemorative diorama down there, all clean and ready for the pyre. I know I didn't leave her looking like that, so..." His tone shifted a bit. "Gee, you all must have thought I'd have turned her. Good idea, but no. Funny thing: I didn't kill her – she was dead when I found her. Your Beastmaster must have done that. But it sure was entertaining to see the look on Wes' face. Wish I'd had a camera."

"You are _filth_," I said, taking a pathetic stab at strong.

He smiled again. He reached out slowly and began to stroke my breast through my satin pajama top. I didn't stop him. "Yeah, I guess I am," he murmured. He leaned in close to my ear. Barely whispering, he spoke slowly, each phrase left to hang in the air like a pungent scent. "But you're the one who's dying for it... the filth. You're the one who's all slick and wet for it... wants it inside... filling you up... making you hurt... making you come... making you scream..."

With those final words, he pinched my nipple hard, and I recoiled from him, barely suppressing a shriek. God, he was right. Angelus was the most violent, cruel, calculating vampire in recorded history. He had already beaten and raped me, knocked me unconscious, played with my mind and shot me in the leg. Filth – and I wanted him to pollute my body. Again. Wreak more havoc, push me over the edge, use me for his stupid game...

For once, my mind overruled my naughty hungers. I decided that this must end. Now.

"Will not happen," I insisted with fragile resistance, looking him straight in the eye.

"Like you could stop it," he chuckled.

Foolishly, I bolted for the door. Of course he grabbed me before I could reach the doorknob, and he pushed me against it. "Let me go!" I demanded, trying fruitlessly to wriggle free.

He put his hand firmly over my mouth. Like before, down in the cage, he pressed against me and I could feel that he was smoldering below the waist, just as I was.

"No you see, Cordy," he rasped at me, not whispering, but just above. "I don't think that's an option. For a couple of reasons, one..." he pushed his bulging crotch into mine, bringing forth a moan from me, muffled against his hand. My desire was now pushed up to eleven.

I opened my eyes to find him smirking at me. He pulled his hand away. "There, now, you see? Do you really want me to let you go?" Once again, he lowered his tone, and pushed against me harder. I gasped at the jolt of pleasure that went through me. "In fact, I might just keep you with me for... _a lot_ longer."

I didn't have time to react to this new revelation before he threw me back on the bed. My head injury protested, and the bandage on my leg came a bit loose, but I didn't move as he barred the door with a chair, then approached the bed. He peeled off his leather jacket, throwing it to the floor.

"My little basement discovery left me feeling a bit cold," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "I used to have a smart, hot, _randy_ little squeeze to keep me warm on those cold winter nights, but now she's dust. Again. And clearly, I missed my chance with Lilah..." he explained, discarding the shirt, starting on the pants.

He suddenly threw himself onto the bed, straddling my legs. I weakly resisted by trying to turn over, but he pushed me down on my back again. He ripped open my pajama top... I wasn't wearing the bottoms. He tore yet another pair of underwear from my body, and then pulled out his cock. If possible, it seemed even harder and bigger than last time. Any resistance I had left now melted away. Having abandoned myself, I moaned in anticipation.

"Just do it," I whispered. "Take me." My voice, like the rest of me, was quivering by now.

He leaned down close again, supporting himself on his elbows, enveloping my head with his arms. Back to the clenched whisper, "Maybe, since your own demon essence isn't enough for you, and you're so _dying_ to be _taken_, filled up by a different kind of demon..."

I'd known it was coming. Somehow, I had suspected that my worst fear was true: he had come here tonight with the intention of siring me.

"...all you gotta do is ask for it," he sang at me, smiling broadly.


	11. Chapter 11

ELEVEN

This took my breath away.

Angelus knew I'd been taking a walk on the dark side lately, but did he really think I'd beg him to take me if I knew that it meant _being taken _by a different kind of demon? Violence, sex and death are in one kettle of fish. Becoming a soulless creature who wreaks havoc on the lives of others? Different kettle.

"Come on, baby," he whispered to me in a way that he knew would make me ache, make me fight against myself. "You know you want it as bad as I do. I want to give it to you, and you want to take it. The sweet, sweet release... no strings, no more obligations, no more worrying about what your friends will think. Just abandon. Forever." He sneered the word "friends" with utter contempt.

"Ugh, no! Get off me!" Futile. He held me down.

"The only thing you know or care about is your desires... your lust... for blood... and whatever else you need... you just _take it_," he whispered some more, ignoring my struggles.

I continued to try to free myself with a gigantic push that took all my strength, my left thigh griping terribly, but he just pushed me back down and giggled that distinctively malevolent _Angelus_ giggle. I tried to get my knee between his legs; no such luck. I quit struggling and looked him directly in the eye. He stopped laughing and put on a mock-sympathetic tone.

"Aw, Cordy! Who do you think you're kidding? You want me to fuck you."

I swallowed hard, pushing down my fear. "Yes."

"You want me to kill you."

I didn't answer.

"And you want me to make you."

"No," I whispered, resolutely.

"Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this is an all or nothing kind of situation." He looked down at his hard, exposed cock, and then his face morphed to show his other side, his fangs, his yellow demon's eyes. "And I'm all ready to go, here. You don't want to be called a tease, do you?"

My eyes filled with tears. "Please. Do what you want, use me, kill me, whatever. But I don't want to be like you. Just let me die."

"Now that's what I like to hear: _please_. A girl with manners, my favorite kind." Whimsical. Now serious. "Tell me you want it."

I didn't fight. I simply said, "No."

He sighed. He looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes, as if to ask, "Are you kiddin' me with this?" Then he said, angrily "Well that's too bad, 'cause you're gonna get it."

With those words, he pushed his readied cock into me hard enough to hurt, but relieve a conspicuous emptiness within me. His strokes were slow, but hard, and immediately, I was pushed to _that place_ again. That place where I didn't care about my own life, just this: the hideous pleasure. Even fear of siring couldn't take that away from me. I was past the point where there was anything I could do. Tonight, I might become a vampire and I was helpless to stop it.

But maybe not. Maybe becoming a vampire held some complicity. Didn't you have to drink to be made?

"I know you've wondered, Cordy," he said, still pushing hard, yellow eyes still fixed on mine. "The blood. Why bloood? Why is it so _tasty _to us?" He licked my jugular, making me gasp harshly, then moan with the frisson of pleasure it brought me. "Well now you're going to find out."

"I'll resist," I promised him, as firmly as I could with my body being jolted and my breath coming out in sharp staccato strokes.

"You can't resist," he promised back. "The hunger is too strong for you."

His thrusting began to throw me into the insensible spiral. The pleasure was mounting, as was the fear. I was powerless against both. I began to breathe harder, to feel myself clenching, burning. The end was near... I was going to come, and I was going to die. Only one question remained: would I stay dead?

Angelus' taunts were becoming fewer as well, and I knew he too was nearing climax when his demon face slipped away, and it was just his human aspect staring back at me once more. He gaze grew intense, and his grunting quicker. I clutched at him, he clutched at me, and with the world on my shoulders, I came. Hard. I drew blood on Angelus' bicep and on my lip from biting, grasping, clawing. My body spasmed for ages, until the last little curl of pleasure bolted through me, and I relaxed.

He didn't allow me much solace. Within seconds, he looked at me, showed his vampire façade once more, and announced, "Now, the first thing we do is kill everyone in this hotel. See you when you wake up!"

Fear surged through me as Angelus' fangs sunk into my throat, and I felt him come with a desperate growl, the visceral howl of an animal claiming its prey. He was spurting into me, and draining me at the same time, as if he was replacing what he was taking. I opened my mouth in response to the pain, and breath escaped me in short, inconsistent, ragged shards.

Images flooded my head. Wesley, throat torn open, laying against the desk chair. Gunn, bleeding to death on the marble floor from a head wound. Fred, stretched out on the floor nearby, bruised from head to foot, and dead. Lorne, decapitated and mutilated. Connor, still fighting, feral, machete-wielding to the death... all of it _my _doing.

Tearing across Europe with Angelus as Darla had done, dodging vampire hunters, eating the locals, leaving a trail of bloodshed and misery in our wake. Torturing nuns, making children cry for their mothers, just before feeding on them as well. It was horrible, and it's all what lay in my future.

I didn't scream – I couldn't. I could not resist. In that moment, I gave up. Whatever became of me, it seemed I was his now.

And then it all went dark.


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE

When I woke, I felt like death.

It was dark and I couldn't see, but I could smell. I was acutely aware of the wondrous scents of vomit, alcohol, sex and not bathing. Something was on top of me. It felt oppressive. I figured Angelus must have stashed me underground somewhere and now I had to claw my way out. I knew I couldn't be far from humanity – my new super-senses were registering loud and clear the funk of mankind, so I didn't need to worry about being far from a feeding ground. I knew from Angel's stories that a vampire wakes and needs to feed within a few hours, so I wasn't surprised to be hungry. This, in the end, is what finally caused me to gather my strength, which I knew would be superhuman, and begin to push.

The thing on top of me turned out to be a bed, and it didn't prove so easy just to overturn. So I crawled out from underneath and looked around. It was a dirty, dank motel room with a bedspread that hadn't been replaced since the Carter administration. We were supposed to be kindred spirits now, companions... a pair of vampire lovers slashing our way across the world for our own gain, for our own fun. And Angelus had chosen _this _as the place for me to awaken? How crass – so like a man. What happened to a symbolic rebirth? Hallowed ground? The nice rooftop greenhouse that Drusilla had chosen for Darla?

He had, however, been nice enough to put clothes on me. He'd just picked up the ones I had thrown on the floor, the ones I had worn the day before: the last day of my life.

But then I realized something. My thigh still hurt. I could feel caked blood on my neck, and when I rolled down my turtleneck and put my fingers to the source of it, I could feel the bite marks. They stung. Neither of these things should be happening. Wounds and ailments, especially the bite marks, are supposed to go away when the person becomes a vampire.

And then I stepped in front of the mirror. I could see my hair all misshapen from being ravaged, dressed like a rag doll and then shoved under a bed across town. I could see the vestiges of bruises from the first time Angelus had raped me on the basement floor. I knew from the dizziness that I had lost a lot of blood, and I could see the bite marks. The hollow, tired eyes used to belong to Cordelia Chase. Now, I wasn't sure who they belonged to.

Shamefully, upon seeing my reflection, I felt an initial bout of rejection. Why hadn't he turned me? Didn't he want me to be his dark vampire lover?

Luckily I was able to shake that thought off right away and recognize it for the insanity that it was. Not that it was surprising, considering the way my mind had been working lately, namely, in the train of thought that had brought me here.

Now, my first priority was not feeding on the innocent, it was figuring out where the hell I was so that I could get out of there.

I knew it wouldn't be smart just to run out of the room, especially with my body in the condition it was in. I needed a plan. I needed to find a weapon, think of a ruse... anything so that I wasn't just running down the street calling for help. But I needed to think fast, because it appeared as though Angelus wasn't here at the moment, but he could come back at any time. And since he clearly had no plans to turn me, I had to wonder what, in fact, he planned to do with me. It wasn't totally implausible that he'd keep me as a sex slave, but I was pretty sure my body (and my red blood cell count) couldn't take another plundering from Angelus.

_Okay, think. Gather info, be smart._

A peek out through the orange and brown curtains showed me that it was dark outside. That meant that Angelus, and any other ugly beastie, could be out and about on the streets. Angelus had come into my room between 4 and 5 in the morning. That meant that at least the whole day had passed, probably more. Wes and the others would have missed me by now. That was good news – they were probably looking for me. And they had Connor, who was as good a bloodhound as his father. I might not be completely screwed!

I began to search for a weapon. I grabbed the Gideon Bible out of the drawer and stuffed it in my coat pocket. I tried to break the cheap particle board chairs in hopes of having a wooden stake, but I was too weak. The blood loss wouldn't even let me lift it over my head, and my damaged thigh wouldn't let me break it by stepping on it.

I opened the micro-closet in the corner. I gasped. There was a pile of dust inside. I'd spent enough time on the beat with the gang to know: vampire dust. Had someone gotten the better of Angelus? I had earlier come to terms with my feelings about Angelus' death, and therefore Angel's as well, but now I might actually be staring at the very pile of ashes...

"Relax, pumpkin. I'm still here," his voice resonated from behind me. I turned and faced him, and saw that he was carrying a large canvas bag over his shoulder. He dropped it to the floor next to the bed. It was still, but I knew there was a person inside, though dead or alive I could not tell.

He joined me at the closet door and peered inside. "That's Harry, one of the groupies. Got in the middle of a little scuffle we had a few hours ago, and poof! Ashes to ashes..."

"Scuffle?" I asked, eager to know if my friends had been here looking for me.

"Yep. Wesley and Faith came a-crashin' through the door, good ol' Harry tried to stop them. Poor bastard, got ousted by a _former Watcher_," he said, practically spitting the words out. "Didn't even hold out for a pummeling from a Slayer. Now _that's_ a good time!"

"Faith?" I asked, as startled as my body would let me be.

"Yeah, that surprised me too. Well, sort of. I guess old Wesley figured it might be worth it to break her out of the pokey if she could come and _take me down!_" He couldn't contain his laughter. "That Wes. Always with the moral ambiguity. That's going to get him into trouble someday."

"Are they okay?"

"As okay as they ever were," he shrugged. "Though I suspect they'll be wanting a nap."

He picked up the canvas sack and put it in the bathroom. He left the lights on for her (I surmised it must be a "her" based on the size of lump that she made in the bag) and shut the door. Then he took four chocolate bars out of his coat pocket and handed one to me. "Here, eat something. You're looking kind of ragged. Give one to our friend when she wakes up."

I took the offering and sat down on the bed while Angelus took a half-full jar of blood from the mini-fridge. He sat down in the chair that I couldn't break and put his feet on the table. We both ate in silence for a minute or so, and then I asked, "How long have I been here?"

He looked at his watch. "It's three a.m. Almost our two-day anniversary."

I hesitated. I wasn't sure how to ask the questions I wanted to ask. I wasn't in any mood to be played with – I just wanted answers.

"Why did I wake up under the bed?"

"Well, when your superfriends came looking for you, I had to do something. It's no wonder they never saw through my diabolically clever plan of hiding what they wanted under the bed. 'Cause that's never been done before," he observed, dripping with sarcasm.

I hesitated longer this time. I opened my mouth several times, but changed my mind at the last second. Finally, I got out, "Why...?"

"...didn't I turn you?" he asked, smiling wickedly.

I stared at the bedspread. He had known all along what I wanted to ask.

He stood up suddenly. "Yeah, like I really want _you_ around for all eternity. I mean 'yap yap yap yap yap!' Next time I find myself a new chick, she's going to be the quiet type, you know? Last thing I need is someone nagging me, 'Angelus! Pick up your socks. Angelus! Stop putting empty bodies back in the fridge.'"

He sat down on the bed with me. Close. "Come on, princess. Did you really think I'd do that to you? I was just playing with you. Trying to get something out of you, because that's my way."

"Trying to get me to scream," I realized.

"Ding ding," he said quietly. "We have a winner. Which means, Cordy, that this ain't over yet. I _will_ have what I want. I will have my scream, I will drain you dry..."

"Just so you can pop your load with flair," I sneered. "And here all this time, I thought you were some kind of evil genius. When all you want, this whole messed-up plan is so you can get your rocks off on some twisted fantasy. You're just like every other guy! Angelus Schmangelus. Go to an evil undead porn shop already, and leave me alone."

He oscillated between anger and amusement. Of course, he knew that I was bluffing, that I sounded a lot more confident than I was. But, I'd also hit upon some truth. He could have killed me in that cage a week ago, and the only reason he hadn't was because of the vampire's wet dream that I had never quite let him fulfill.

We stared at each other in stalemate for a few moments, and then we were interrupted by a groan coming from the bathroom. She was waking up.

He repeated himself, more softly this time. "I will have my scream. I will drain you dry. But the rules have changed." The smirk spread across his face slowly.

The bathroom door opened. I expected to see Faith step out, and was looking forward to the ensuing smackdown.

Instead I saw a very small-looking, very frail, very bewildered Fred.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Hello friends. What I'm going for here is a scene that is oppressive, tense, deafening and **__**soaked**__** in tears and fear. Climactic. I really tried to turn up the volume on this chapter. Please review – let me know if I've succeeded.**_

THIRTEEN

My heart sank. My own cohesion ripping apart was one thing, but I was fairly certain that Fred couldn't take another trip this far into the dark side and expect to come back from it whole.

Images of Fred's past blurred my vision. When last I'd seen her, she had been a strong, brilliant demon fighter with the heart of a lion. But it had taken her years to get to that point, and Angelus knew it. He knew just what to do and say to reduce her to the scared rabbit she had been when she first came to us.

Her hair was mussed, half-up and half-down, the back caked with a bit of blood. Her pink flowered blouse was in a similar condition, the left side untucked from her skirt. She looked delirious, not at all in touch with reality, but when she saw Angelus, she snapped back into the present. Her eyes widened like saucers as she stared at him. Her lip quivered and she grabbed onto the doorjamb for support.

He stood up and faced her. "Good morning, starshine," he said to her with a smile. "Did you sleep well? Of course you did. Big ol' book to the back of the skull will do that. Why don't you come sit down?" He gestured to the chair he had occupied a few minutes before.

"What do you want from me? Where am I?" she asked, with no apparent attempt at hiding her crippling fear.

"Oh, I can't tell you that, Freddie-pie. That wouldn't be fair, now, would it?"

"Fred, listen," I said, leaning toward her but knowing better than to try to go to her. "It's going to be okay, honey, trust me."

For the first time, she registered my presence. "Cordy? Wha... what is this?"

"This," Angelus told her, putting his hand on her back trying to lead her away from the bathroom door, "is a game that Cordelia and I like to call _Don't Scream_. And you are our next contestant."

As she let him lead her across the room, she looked at me with disgust. "A game?"

"It's not a game," I said to both of them. I knew it was a lie, but now that someone else was involved, I couldn't afford to play anymore. Or to admit what I'd been thinking and doing and allowing.

Angelus completely ignored what I had said while Fred continued to stare at me with confusion. "Now Cordy – she's been a trooper. She's a real vixen, even. She's managed to get through it _twice _without screaming or crying or really, reacting at all."

"I don't understand," Fred said, changing her gaze from me to Angelus, and then back to me. "Get through what?"

"Well, she reacts," Angelus corrected himself. He lowered his voice to a whispery growl. "She gets all wet and slippery and then moans for it... comes like the high tide, but never screams. Tsk."

"What?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "Cordy?" she asked, questioning the veracity of his claims. I couldn't look her in the eye.

"And me? Hell, she can make me go off like Old Faithful, but it still feels like there's something missing, you know?" Angelus guided her to a chair, and she sat. "You, just sit tight. I'll be with you in a moment. And you," he said to me with a smile. "Pretty thing." He came to my side of the room and leaned down, kissing me hard enough to hurt my teeth and push the back of my head against the headboard.

When he was done he grabbed me by the arm, one of the few places on my body he hadn't yet injured, and hauled me across the room to the micro-closet. He took a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket, and as he fumbled with them, I saw Fred glance at the door, and then back at me, as if to decide whether she should make a break for it and leave me behind. I must have given her some kind of nod, or said something with my eyes that I didn't intend to say, because Angelus registered it. He turned to her suddenly and gave her a look that was enough to make her stay put, with her eyes glued to him.

I found myself handcuffed to the rod in the closet. I didn't want to show weakness, but I had nothing. I had no weapon and no recourse. All I had was my voice, the 'yap yap' that Angelus found so irritating. "Angelus! Angelus, please leave her out of this!" I begged as I watched him take off his jacket and neatly place it over the back of the other chair. "This is between you and me, let Fred go!"

Never taking her own eyes off Angelus, Fred said, voice quavering, "Cordy, what's happening?" She probably already knew the answer, but her mind was most likely flooded with a million different thoughts and images. She wanted me to reassure her, but we all knew that anything I could say would be an empty lie.

"It's okay, Fred, just stay calm!" I tried to advise her, without much success.

Angelus carefully removed his shoes and socks and shirt, again, neatly placing them on the chair. I noted that his encroachment upon Fred was going to be much more calculated than those upon me, much less hungry, much less based in desire. All of this was to punish me, to show me that if he raped and killed Fred, it had nothing to do with _her_, or his desire for her... it had to do with his desire for me. He wanted to remind me of my complicity in that. And now she was going to suffer because of me.

He grabbed her by the back of the neck and brought her to her feet, smiling disgustingly. He took some twine from his pocket and tied her hands behind her back.

"Cordy!" she whined.

Desperately, I begged, "Listen to me. If you do anything to her, Wes will kill you, you know that. He won't even try to bring you back in alive to save Angel – he won't even care, he'll just dust you and never think twice!"

He pushed Fred down onto the bed on her back, her arms twisted awkwardly behind her. I couldn't help crying out her name as I saw her handled like a toy. Tears began to fall down my cheeks, and Fred and I sobbed together.

He climbed on top of her and asked, "So what do you think, princess? Accent or no accent? I've been in the new world nigh on a century, but I can still do the Irish brogue... I've been told it's sexy and _penetrating_."

She shut her eyes tight and turned her head to the side, holding her breath.

"That's right Fred, don't give him anything!" I said, trying to keep her strong. "Just go somewhere else, do you hear me? Go somewhere else."

Angelus laughed. "Great advice, Cordy, is that what you did? 'Cause I seem to recall that you were fully in the moment! Every inch of you was hanging on... pulling tight! Until you let go, of course. That'll be the best part, Freddie-pie... the letting go."

"Don't listen to him, Fred! They're just words," I said through tears.

"But Fred knows the value of words better than anyone," he insisted, covering her body with his, sniffing her neck. She visibly trembled, audibly whimpered. He mumbled, "All that dirty talk in that cute little voice..." That's when he unzipped. Fred opened her eyes and saw his cock, and her sobbing became stronger and louder.

"Stop it," I demanded. "It's not too late, Angelus. You can still come back from this! Think what will happen to you... I asked for it, but Fred didn't! You can't do this!" I cried. "He'll kill you," it came out as a long sob.

He ignored me. He pushed her green skirt up to her waist as she became even more unhinged. My head was now filled with her cries. It was deafening. I couldn't help her, I couldn't leave her, I couldn't even close my ears. I was losing my grip, as was Fred. I was sobbing out of control, no longer able to stand, and the handcuffs were cutting through my wrists.

I knew what would come next. He would rip her underpants off her, and then it would be all over. There would be nothing I could do for her – ever. He would have her... really have her, and even if he didn't kill her, she would be finished, broken. He would have taken everything from her that made her alive. She would be polluted, violated, always dirty, forever afraid. He was about to push her into a place where no woman should ever have to go, where not even five years in Pylea could push her. Not even her evil professor or vicious green demons vomited from hell could push her there. But Angelus could, and he would enjoy himself doing it.

My stupid games had brought her here. Fred, little Fred... she didn't deserve this. God, and there was nothing I could do!

I dreaded it. I held my breath for it until the sobbing overwhelmed me again and I rejoined Fred in her desperate, inarticulate, gasping cries. Then, the sound of the ripping came. Something shattered within me. I thought my head was exploding or being crushed as Angelus readied himself to plunge into Fred... but none of that was true. It was a scream. I was screaming the word "no."

It was high-pitched and filled the room, replacing Fred's frightened crying. Against my will, I screamed until my breath ran out and my throat hurt. I screamed with my whole body, as if every molecule in me was finally, rightfully, rebelling against Angelus and his horrifying games. I screamed for every woman who has ever been tied down and taunted and then raped without remorse. I screamed for every woman who walks a tad too briskly from her office to her car, living in fear of the possiblity. I screamed from the bottom of my soul. I screamed against myself, I screamed for Fred and I screamed for Angel who were both innocents in this.

And when I was finished, I continued sobbing. "Please..." I begged incoherently. "Please, I'll do anything, just leave her alone! Leave her alone, take me!" Angelus and Fred just stared at me for a few moments, until the evil smile spread across Angelus' face once more.

I knew what that meant for me, but I didn't care. I just wept.


	14. Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

To my relief, Angelus pulled Fred back to her feet and promptly knocked her silly with one good punch. Her body crumpled and fell back onto the bed, but she was conscious. Helpless, but conscious.

Upon which, he broke my handcuffs, and he and I repeated our hot, sick dance on the motel room floor. This time, no talking, no mind games, none of what Angelus might have called foreplay. Just the thrusting and the rug burns.

I continued to cry a little bit, until, like always, my body betrayed me and I began to moan and come "like the high tide," as Angelus said. As he drank from me once more, he too went off "like Old Faithful," with familiar spasms, lurching, grunting. I guessed that some of the screaming and the fear must still be in me, because he drank more hungrily than before, and I had less blood in me this time. As it drained out of me and I closed my eyes for what I was sure would be the last time, I thought, "He won. He got what he wanted."

I awoke two days later in my room at the Hyperion, genuinely surprised to be alive. Fred was pressing a cold cloth to my forehead. As before, my head screamed in pain, the bite marks stung, and my thigh throbbed. And now added to that: raw tears in my wrists from the handcuffs. But, I was bandaged and warm, and my friend was with me.

She smiled, "Oh, hi," she said. "Didn't expect to see you so soon. Wesley said he thought you'd be out another day at least."

I looked around the room. I examined Fred. She seemed normal.

"Wha... what happened?" I asked her, trying to sit up, having limited success.

Her smile faded as quickly as it had arrived. She hesitated. "After Angelus did... you know, what he did to you, he left." I winced. She had seen us. I wasn't sure if I was more disgusted on her behalf or my own. "I tried to wake you up, but I couldn't. I was pretty out of it myself, and I just stumbled back here and told Charles where to find you. Then Faith and Wesley went and took down Angelus, Charles and Lorne brought you back here, and I called Willow. She broke the Muo-Ping from afar by using magick, and gave Angel his soul back."

The wind was knocked out of me. "He's back? Angel's back?"

"Body and soul," Fred said with a weak smile. "But I still can't... after..."

"I understand," I said, touching her hand. "It'll take time."

"Yeah," she whispered.

A silence hung in the air for a few moments, and then I said, "I'm sorry I got you involved, Fred. I'm sorry for what he almost did to you. It was my fault." Tears came to my eyes.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him from..." she said, her eyes welling up too. "You got him to turn away from me and come after you, and I'm grateful. But Cordy..." her breath was cut off. She whispered, "_he raped you_."

The tears came now like rain. "I'm sorry you had to see that," I said.

Her tears came in kind. "I'm not the one I'm worried about, here."

"It's okay, I'll be fine." I was silent for a few moments, contemplating whether I should say anymore. Should I let Fred believe I'd simply been repeatedly bitten, beaten and raped by a mythically dangerous vampire? I could get away with that now that Angel was back. Or should I confess the much-less-simple truth?

"That, um, wasn't the first time," I told her, the words croaking out reluctantly. "In fact, I've been practically inviting him to... and I've..."

"Enjoyed it," she finished for me, no expression on her face. Nothing readable, anyhow.

I answered by evasively looking at the blanket in my lap.

"I could kind of tell," she said, blushing. I was just disgusted with myself. Beyond disgusted. Another long silence hung in the air, until she added, "When you're ready to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

She left the room, and within five minutes, she was back with Gunn, Wesley, Lorne and Connor. They greeted me with smiles and hugs and general warm-fuzzies. I asked after Faith and Willow, and was told that they had gone back to Sunnydale to fight some kind of über-evil.

"There's something I have to know, Lorne," I asked. "How did you get so fooled into thinking Angel was re-ensouled?"

Wesley answered for him. "I did some checking. After Lilah, I couldn't sleep so I looked at that spell we used. _Swathe of the Soulless_, we interpreted to mean the re-enveloping of someone who has lost their soul. But _swathe _can mean _cloak_, in other words, _deception._ What we did was give Angelus the ability to deceive any kind of mystical radar, such as Lorne's prescience."

"Whoa," I sighed. "I'm sorry you guys. I just wanted him back so badly."

"Hey, we understand," Gunn assured me.

"We all wanted him back, muffin," Lorne added. He glanced sidelong at a sullen Connor. "Well, most of us wanted him back."

"I should have double-checked it myself before getting started, but I was in the same boat as you. I wanted Angel back," Wesley told me. I could tell he'd done plenty of self-flagellating on this matter.

I assured him it was not his fault, as did everyone else, and then a silence fell. The question was hanging in the air, and I had to be the one to ask it. I took a deep breath and asked, "Where is he?"

"He's, uh," Lorne began. "He's still down in the cell."

"His decision," Gunn told me. "We figured this time, we'll listen to him and just leave him in there until we're sure."

Wes explained, "We've called the Furies in to do a sweep. They can rid the vicinity of any trace of dark magick. If Angel is still afflicted with the dark spell that we cast, it might mean that he could duck Willow's re-ensouling spell as well. We just need to be sure."

Connor, again, sniggered.

Lorne reassured me (and Connor), "We're just not certain whether Gypsy magick counts as the sort of 'mystical radar' that the _Swathe of the Soulless_ allows you to deceive. Should take five minutes – the Furies are excellent. Then we'll make him sing again... it'll be a snap."

"Famous last words," Connor growled.

"When will we know?" I asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Wesley said.

"Yeah, and until then, you stay up here in your tower," Gunn said, patting me affectionately. "Lots of iron, lots of vitamins, and lots of crap daytime TV. You'll be good as new!"

My friends took care of me for the next 24 hours. I took their vitamins, ate their steak, drank their milk. I was gathering my strength for seeing Angel again.


	15. Ending 1: The Heroine's Journey

**ENDING #1: THE HEROINE'S JOURNEY**

FIFTEEN

The following afternoon came solemnly. We were all tentative. Fred made her excuses and stayed away. The rest of us watched as the Furies swept the basement of all traces of dark magick, and then they sighed, "Mmm, Angel," (_always _creepy when they do that) and disappeared. Then Angel sang the refrain of _Tiny Dancer_, and Lorne, once again, pronounced him fit to be freed.

I hung back and sat down on the stairs. I watched as each person greeted Angel on his way out of the cage. First Connor, who actually cracked a smile and submitted to a hug (hallelujah, Good Gumby), and half-heartedly confessed that he was relieved to have his dad back. Then Gunn shook Angel's hand and promised that bygones were bygones. Angel complimented Gunn's tactical skills in the effort to keep Angelus in check, and assured him that he should never think of himself as "just the muscle." Lorne gave him a hug and then nervously threatened a dusty finish if this should turn out to be a fool-Lorne's-senses hoax again.

Then Wesley. The two men were solemn, serious, and rightly so. Their history was complicated.

Angel confessed the truth about Lilah's death, that she had perished at the hands of the Beast's boss, not been bitten by Angelus. Wesley apologized for his role in all of this, and the two reached a deeply-spoken, somber agreement that mending friendship takes time.

As he walked away from the cage, Wesley said, "But it's Faith whom Angelus hurt the most. I think the real mending is to be done there."

I buried my eyes in my palms in an effort not to cry. Wes was the smartest guy I knew, but there was still so much he missed, right under his nose.

"Thanks," Angel said, and Wesley plodded up the stairs.

We were left alone. Me and Angel.

A long, long silence ensued during which I held my position and tried to catch my breath, and Angel didn't make a sound.

I finally gathered the gumption to look at him. He was leaning against the bars on the outside of the cage, looking worried.

And looking _painfully_ handsome. And I do mean painfully. I had to look away.

"Look," I said with as solid a voice as I could manage. "I don't suppose there's any chance that we could just go back to normal, being crime-fighters and all, and never have this discussion?"

He hesitated, then, "You know we can't do that, Cordelia."

"Go back to normal?"

"Never have this discussion." After a moment, he asked, "may I sit next to you?"

I nodded and moved to my left. He took his place next to me on the stairs.

Another silence while I stared at the ceiling, and he cradled his head on his forearms.

"I don't have the slightest clue how to begin," he told me, not raising his head.

"Please don't say you're sorry. I already know that part," I insisted, though not harshly. I had no intention of scolding him.

"Cordelia, most of what I have done as Angelus has been... reprehensible. Unimaginable. You have seen me at my no-holds-barred_ worst_, and even you couldn't fully wrap your head around the destruction I've caused. I have a hundred and fifty years of carnage and pain on my conscience, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. I try to atone, try to fix things, but I can never really fix them, and no one can help me fix them or fix them for me."

"Angel, I know all that," I whispered, looking at him. I didn't want him to bury what had happened in the mountain of Angelus' crimes. I also did not want him flogging himself over it... I had my own excuses to make.

"I know you do. My point is that... with all the terror and hell-on-earth that I've wrought, I have never had to look back and ask, 'what was I thinking?' I know exactly why I did the things that I've done: I'm a vampire. My soul was removed and replaced with a malevolent demon, and I wasn't given a choice in the matter."

He stared at me, searching my face for something. Answers, maybe, to the conundrum he was about to present.

He continued after a few moments. "So I guess what I'm trying to say is... we both know what _I_ was thinking. I _do not_ understand what _you_ were thinking."

This was not gloating or rebuke; Angel had the worried face again. I went back to the head-in-hands, eyes-covered position.

I had asked him not to apologize, and I did not want some sob scene where he begs for forgiveness and I tearfully promise we'll get through it, and then hug. What we had been through was too big for something so banal, and our relationship too important. And what could I say? He was right: he had been evil – what more explanation was there? Demons exist for violence and mayhem.. It was what it was.

But the man knew me well, whether he was good or evil. And the good man next to me knew that, yes, the evil man had raped me as evil men do, but that I had played the game with him. I willingly crossed the line by locking myself in the cage with the monster, thus inviting the travesties that followed. He knew that even with the violence and mind games, I _loved_ getting fucked by Angelus, that I had said 'yes' when he'd asked if I wanted it, that I had gone all flushed and slick every time he came near me and that each savage attack finished with a mutual, liquid hot explosion. He was right to question me. It was sick, twisted and wrong.

But he was evil. What was _my _excuse?

"Oh God, it's nothing I can explain, Angel," I said, beginning, once again, to cry.

"Well... try. There's nothing that can be done about my condition, but let me help you sort through yours. Let me help you fix it, Cordy. If you're headed down the path toward 'self-destruct,' I need to know about it."

I looked up toward the ceiling, as if I could see my friends in the lobby. I told Angel, as if in confidence, "the group is imploding. It's falling apart."

"I've noticed."

"No one quite trusts Wesley anymore, and everyone's still tetchy at Lorne for the teenage blast from the past spell. Gunn and Fred are breaking up and Wesley's right in the middle of it, not to mention the whole bag of bad that Lilah brought to the mix. And then on top of all that..." I choked on my tears. Couldn't go on.

"...you slept with Connor," Angel finished my sentence, quite calmly. "You thought I would be lost to you after that, and that Angelus would and could give you something that I can't."

"Yeah," I whispered, surprised and ashamed.

"But he also gave you that," he said, indicating the vestiges of my bruised cheek, "and that," he added, pointing to the bite marks hidden behind a scarf.

"I would have let him kill me, Angel," I gushed. It came out sounding more dramatic than I had wanted, but I went on, uncaring of further consequences. Some things needed to be said, and if I had learned anything over the past week, it was not to play games. "I love you, Angel. You must know it. I have loved you for years, lusted after you for longer, and I thought I had lost you, really lost you. I began to welcome the idea of death so that I could have one chance with... the next best thing. And then there was danger and secrets and hunger... I just went to a _place_, Angel, where I could accept anything, no matter how horrible. And it swallowed me and I couldn't come back from there."

"I don't believe it swallowed you, because you did come back from there, Cordy."

"Only because you got your soul back. If Willow hadn't come through, Angelus would have come lurking again, and what would I have said? No thank you? It's not like I've had a sudden attack of actual reason... it's just circumstances."

"No, it's not just because I got my soul back. You're not a victim of circumstance. That would mean that you were choiceless, powerless like me when I was turned and became a vampire. If anything, we're having this discussion because you are _not_ powerless. If you were, he would have killed you in that cage. Some choice brought you to that _place_, and your power has brought you back."

I stared at him. "Still not following."

"Yes, you took some pleasure in it - that's why you refused to scream: you wanted to prolong the madness, keep yourself in the game. But by not screaming, not giving Angelus what he desperately wanted, you also maintained a kind of power, and it was the only real weapon you had against him. You kept your hold over him, and as a price, you were willing to debase yourself, submit to the violence and humiliation," he explained.

He paused, then continued. "But you were _not_ willing to see all of that happen to your friend. Angelus knew that – it's why he went after Fred. He knew _that_ would be what would finally break you, and he thought he took away your power that night. You probably thought, just as you were passing out, that he had won, gotten what he wanted. Am I right?"

I was startled again. "Yes, you're right."

"But you were wrong. Because what he didn't understand, Cordy – what Angelus will _never _understand – is that real power doesn't come from having leverage over someone. It's not about making them suffer or bleed or causing them fear. It's just the opposite. It comes from loving them, forming attachments that give us the strength to pull ourselves out of the dark places that might otherwise swallow us. And no one, not even Angelus can take that away.

"Your love for Fred gave you what you needed to come back to yourself. You screamed for her, pleaded for her, begged Angelus to take you instead. When you did that, you drew the line, and you came out of that _place_ where you could accept anything no matter how horrible. One horror you clearly couldn't accept. Your love saved Fred's life."

"Yeah?"

"No question. He would have killed her when he was done with her."

Shivers. Inside Angelus' head was a place where no decent guy should ever go.

"That's your greatest power, Cordy. Whatever floaty-glowy-vision thing that the Powers might bestow upon you, it's your ability to give and spread love that makes you such a strong woman. You even turned _me_ into a social butterfly." As he said that, he bumped his shoulder playfully against mine, and made me smile.

I had been crying as he spoke, and I was slow to accept. But the more I processed his words, the more sense he made. I _had_ drawn a line, and it _was_ my attachment to Fred, my love for her, that brought out that little good in me. I hadn't meant to scream – it had just come out.

But I didn't want to bask in my redemption, and I didn't want to cry anymore. I just wanted my best friend back, and I wanted to help the helpless – it's what we do. It's _our_ power. Angel and I held hands for a long while without saying anything, until Fred's voice came from the top of the stairs.

"Hey, we're ordering Chinese. Do you want your usual, Cordy?"

I looked up, surprised to see her venturing into Angel's vicinity. "Fred?"

Angel echoed me, perhaps even more surprised.

"Yeah, it's me," she said. She came down onto the second step from the top and let the door shut behind her.

"I'm very surprised to see you here," I said lamely, but pointedly.

Angel looked miserable as he stared at her, clearly at a profound loss for what to say.

Fred told us, "I've spent enough time in caves hiding from the bad men. But there are no bad men here, so I figure, why not come out into the daylight and have Chinese food with the good men?"

I looked at Angel and whispered, "She's powerful, too."

"So, Cordy, do you want the usual?" she asked, turning to open the door.

"Yes, I want the usual."

**End.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	16. Ending 2: The Hollywood Drivel

**ENDING #2: THE HOLLYWOOD DRIVEL**

FIFTEEN

The following afternoon came solemnly. We were all tentative. Fred made her excuses and stayed away. The rest of us watched as the Furies swept the basement of all traces of dark magick, and then they sighed, "Mmm, Angel," (_always _creepy when they do that) and disappeared. Then Angel sang the refrain of _Tiny Dancer_, and Lorne, once again, pronounced him fit to be freed.

I hung back and sat down on the stairs. I watched as each person greeted Angel on his way out of the cage. First Connor, who actually cracked a smile and submitted to a hug (hallelujah, Good Gumby), and half-heartedly confessed that he was relieved to have his dad back. Then Gunn shook Angel's hand and promised that bygones were bygones. Angel complimented Gunn's tactical skills in the effort to keep Angelus in check, and assured him that he should never think of himself as "just the muscle." Lorne gave him a hug and then nervously threatened a dusty finish if this should turn out to be a fool-Lorne's-senses hoax again.

Then Wesley. The two men were solemn, serious, and rightly so. Their history was complicated.

Angel confessed the truth about Lilah's death, that she had perished at the hands of the Beast's boss, not been bitten by Angelus. Wesley apologized for his role in all of this, and the two reached a deeply-spoken, somber agreement that mending friendship takes time.

As he walked away from the cage, Wesley said, "But it's Faith whom Angelus hurt the most. I think the real mending is to be done there."

I buried my eyes in my palms in an effort not to cry. Wes was the smartest guy I knew, but there was still so much he missed, right under his nose.

"Thanks," Angel said, and Wesley plodded up the stairs.

We were left alone. Me and Angel.

A long, long silence ensued during which I held my position and tried to catch my breath, and Angel didn't make a sound.

I finally gathered the gumption to look at him. He was leaning against the bars on the outside of the cage, looking worried.

And looking _painfully_ handsome. And I do mean painfully. I had to look away.

"Look," I said with as solid a voice as I could manage. "I don't suppose there's any chance that we could just go back to normal, being crime-fighters and all, and never have this discussion?"

He hesitated, then, "You know we can't do that, Cordelia."

"Go back to normal?"

"Never have this discussion." After a moment, he asked, "may I sit next to you?"

I nodded and moved to my left. He took his place next to me on the stairs.

Another silence while we both stared at the ceiling.

"So," I said, finally, with a clearly forced attempt at casual. "What do you want to talk about?"

Without hesitation, he said, "I'm sorry, Cordy."

"I know. I am too. I should have just left your soul in that safe where it belonged."

"We all make mistakes," he remarked.

"Yeah. But I don't know if either one of us is going to be able to come back from these last few. The past several weeks, there's been enough stark-raving insanity to go around."

He was silent for longer than was natural to make a reply. Finally he said, without looking at me, "I'm not sure I want to come back from this one, pretend it never happened and move on."

"Excuse me?"

"This is the third time I've gotten my soul back, Cordy, and each time I wake up with a conscience, I find that I've learned something from my walk with evil, and things are never quite the same again. The first time, when the gypsies curse me, I realized that people mostly just exist for each other, for their passions and for their connections. Having a conscience means honoring that; you don't murder someone's daughter, you don't look the other way when someone else does, and you don't screw your friends over. Everything changed once I worked that out, and I still believe in it.

"Last time, I learned about sacrifice. The whole Angelus debacle back in Sunnydale showed me that I had to sacrifice my happiness for the greater good. I learned more about the curse, and learned what happens if it's broken. And as you know, things changed from there on out. I've been the broody miserable guy every since. You might have heard about it."

"What did you learn from it this time?"

"What Angelus did to you... what I did to you as Angelus... I now know that I can never have perfect happiness again. Not that that means I should try."

I'd been with him thus far, but now I wasn't following. "I'm not following," I said.

"He and I are almost literally two sides of the same coin. His drive to kill and maim is equal to my drive to fight evil. Where I have desires he has obsessions, and my desires, the things I care about, _become_ his obsessions. Which is why none of my friends are safe when he's around," he explained. "This time around, Angelus was obsessed with _you_."

"Because I so smartly pushed my way into that cage with him!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't take a lot of pushing, did it? What, did you have to talk to him for two minutes, maybe three, to get him to agree to spill his guts and _help save the world_, just so he could have a go at you? He never bothered to torture you, he didn't kill you, and he didn't tell anyone about it, even at his most chatty. All of those things would have pushed you away, one way or another, and he wanted to keep you, to continue to..." he trailed off, either afraid to continue or embarrassed by the revelation itself.

"So what was all that _don't scream_ junk?"

"Just like you said: a vampire's wet dream. The girl screams, the blood goes all hot and salty, which is... well... extremely _stimulating_ to a vampire. Eventually, he gave up on having _the_ perfect scenario and it became an excuse to come back."

"Oh, God," I whispered. An interesting, and disturbing, revelation hit me just then. And then Angel put it into words for me.

"And let's be honest: it was an excuse for you, too. If you'd wanted out, you would have screamed a lot sooner."

I needed time to process what he was saying. If Angel's desires become Angelus' obsessions...

I looked up at him. "You... want me?"

"It's more than that, Cordelia."

I waited for him to continue, but he left it there. He was going to need prompting.

"What does that mean, Angel?"

He avoided my eyes. "It means that yes, I want you. Part of me always has. Part of me has always known that I could have you anytime I wanted you... including the Angelus part of me. But it's grown into something bigger. It means that every time I save the world, my first thought is of saving you. That every night when I fall asleep, my last thought is of you. I have spent hours trying to research gypsy magick (which can't be done, by the way), trying to figure out how to get around the 'perfect happiness' thing." He smiled in embarrassed amusement at himself. He said to me softly, "I might hold the world's record for longest time spent _reading _about how to get the girl I want."

I smiled with him. "Why not try Anita? She's got a potion for everything." Lame attempt at a joke.

"I did try. She didn't have anything that would _suppress_ euphoria, only things to enhance it, go figure," he said, shrugging. "Can't count on your demon brothels anymore."

"Cryin' shame."

"Yeah."

We were silent for a while, but inside, I was in overdrive. I was replaying his words in my head, trying to remember every nuance of his voice and body language, just in case I had heard wrong. I had heard words that convinced me that Angel loves me. Stop me if you think I'm grasping here.

I began to wonder about something. "But... you said that now, you know that you can never have that perfect happiness again."

He sighed heavily. "If I tried to... if you and I ever... Cordelia, if I made love to you, I'd feel the same pleasure that Angelus felt with you. The way your body moves, the way you feel inside... oh God." He covered his eyes with one hand. Mortified? Scared? I was never sure.

"Go on," I said.

"And that would be good. It would feel really good," he told me, simply.

"Yes."

"But I would also see the bruises, the bite marks, the red rings around your wrists."

"The bruises are almost gone, see?" I said, showing him my cheek.

"That's not what I mean. They don't actually have to be there for me to see them I will remember them, remember the sickening things I did and said to you, the even worse things I was planning to do to you... and I'd never be happy. Even the... _moment of happy_ would be tainted with the memory of tasting your blood, and... " He stared off into space for a bit, and then added, "of course, it's pretty presumptuous of me to even think you'd want to... now."

I took his hand, and stood up, forced him to meet my eye. "Not presumptuous. I do want to... now."

"_Now_, now?"

"Yes, now," I told him. He'd stumbled upon the cure... good enough for me.

"But what if..." he stood up as well.

"Angelus comes back?" I asked him, eyebrow cocked. "I'm pretty sure I can take him."

He smiled. "I'm pretty sure, too."

We fell against each other, and for the first time in a long while, we enjoyed a long, languid kiss. Our tongues danced, our bodies sang.

I put my hands on either side of Angel's head, to pull him closer, to bring him into me, as part of me. We caught fire. My fingers wandered to his shirt buttons as our mouths clawed at each other hungrily. But he stopped me.

"No, not here. I have a better idea."

He led me across the room to where there were about a million boxes stacked up. He cleared a few of them away, and to my surprise, revealed an elevator door. I knew that the hotel had an elevator, but we hardly ever used it, and it never occurred to me that it would extend to the basement.

A brilliant strategy. We could go upstairs without the others seeing us or asking questions.

We stepped onto the elevator, and Angel hit the button for the 5th floor. We took our kissing very seriously for the 30 seconds it took to get up to his penthouse suite, still waiting for him from three weeks ago or so, but it seemed like a lifetime. We continued down the hall, awkwardly smooching, clumsily opening and closing the door of the suite. We stumbled to the bed, then, we gracefully melted into each other, and elegantly made love.

And oh, it was good. To finally have _him _on top of me, moving inside me, doing things just right. But I could see the tension in him, the anxiety as we began to move faster, and the memories came flooding back. I made no move to comfort him, as his discomfort was the only chance that he and I had for the life we both wanted. When I came, his jaw tightened until I thought he'd ground his teeth down to nothing, and his eyes darkened. And in the moment of his own release, he braced himself on his elbows, and I heard him say, "no, no," just before the spasms began, and then the final exhale.

Later, as we lay staring at the ceiling, me in bliss and him in... something else, he said, "I wanted to bite you. I really, really wanted to. Your wounds haven't healed yet, I can still smell the blood." He was speaking in a halting manner, and I could tell he was disgusted with himself, and was internally struggling with the "should we or shouldn't we" of it all.

I didn't say anything. I figured it was one more obstacle that might keep him just unhappy enough. For a while anyway. After that, we might have to get a bit more creative.


End file.
